Royal Mess
by Hunting Vampires
Summary: Collaboration with SparkleBOT: Bella, princess and heir to Afneg, has run away to escape her mother's dying wish — wed. Unfortunately for her, she is now forced to work as a maid for King Carlisle and his two sons. How will she fare? A bit OOC.
1. Chapter 1

**Collaboration time ... Yay! Okay, now we're going to speak to you guys, but because we're two different people we'll have to shorten our names. Oh, and our names are Hunting Vampires and SparkleBOT, but we'll call me Hunting and her Sparkle, alright? Good.**

**Disclaimer: We both hate this, but here we go. Twilight belongs to SM.**

**Sparkle: Okay, our dear readers, this story is going to take place in fictional countries in Europe, during the Renaissance.**

**Hunting: Oh, and it'll mostly be Bella POV, so we won't see Edward until she runs away.**

**Both: Enjoy!**

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_Chapter 1: Happiness  
Country of Afneg (some time in the eighteenth century)_  
_Bella POV_

I sat down in front of my vanity as I waited for Charlotte. Mother was in jitters over the visiting prince from Smills and had to make sure I looked my best. I tried to share her level of enthusiasm, but failed miserably — it was hard to get excited about meeting another suitor for me to wed.

I sighed as Charlotte came in; she looked like a person with a mission.

She told me to strip as she went into the wardrobe to grab one of my gowns. I sighed again and complied, knowing from past experience that arguing would only make me late, something Mother was very strict about.

Charlotte pulled out a light green dress and summoned me closer with one of her hands.

I stepped forward, holding my arms above my head to make the job easier on Charlotte. She didn't seem to notice my help, but I could tell she would have appreciated it if she _had_ noticed. She pushed the dress over my head roughly, messing my un-brushed hair further.

I resisted the urge to groan as she tightened the corset strings of the dress. It was becoming uncomfortable.

Charlotte pushed me down on my vanity chair and started to brush my hair. The bristles stung, but I forced myself not to say anything — Charlotte had enough on her hands — and waited as she put my hair up in an intricate 'do, letting a few curls fall around my face. She applied red lip paint to my lips and squirted me with my grandmother's floral perfume. It smelled like strawberries.

She took a step back from me and smiled slightly, looking pleased with her work. Then, after telling me Mother and Father expected me in the Dining Hall in ten minutes, she curtsied slightly and left, leaving me to stare at my face in the mirror.

Big, brown doe eyes stared back at me. They were annoyed and sad, which seemed to be contradicting the forced smile on my face. I blew out a gust of air and closed my eyes. I tried thinking of my childhood days, how fun it had been with Father and Mother … and Alice.

My attempt at trying to make myself seem happy crumbled at the seams.

Alice. My eyes tightened and I had to blow in and out for a few minutes before I could calm down enough to not seem melodramatically depressed.

Alice was my younger sister, though most of the time she seemed like the eldest because she took control of everything we did. I always had a feeling she was my parents' favorite. I mean, how couldn't she be? She had a spiky blob of black hair and striking blue eyes, and even though she was small in stature, she seemed to ooze a commanding aura which you wouldn't want to get on the wrong side of.

She was interesting, while I, on the other hand, wasn't. I had brown hair and brown eyes — nothing special in the least bit — and to top it off, I was always shy and clumsy. Anyway, the reason I was on the verge of a breakdown was because Alice had gone away. She had gotten married to the heir of Wideg, Prince Jasper Hale, and had been whisked off her feet into her happily ever after.

The wedding had been over the top — completely Alice's style — and everyone was having a great time. Mother had bawled to see her youngest go, but she was still happy as ever, while Father couldn't be more proud to finally be able to have some sort of claim to Wideg. (It wasn't that he wasn't happy for Alice or that he was a tyrant, but Father did love to "collect" countries.) The only one who didn't seem to be happy was Rosalie, Jasper's younger twin sister; she seemed to be mad that her brother had gotten married while she was still looking … or maybe she was just peeved she'd have to share her palace.

I shook my head, realizing I only had about three minutes before Mother sent somebody to look for me. I stood up and took one last look in the mirror. I forced a smile and I tried to convince myself it looked genuine. I couldn't fool myself well enough.

I walked out of my room with a sigh and made my way toward the Dining Hall, regretting every step I took more than the last.

I breathed in heavily, trying to calm my nerves, as I opened the wooden door. I grimaced as everyone in the room turned to see my arrival. I smoothed my features and smiled, trying to keep my feet going forward instead of back to my room, where they wanted to go.

Mother and Father were sitting at the head of the table, as per usual, and there were other people. The one next to Father, obviously the prince because he was the only one wearing a crown besides my parents, smiled at me.

It made me want to gag. It's not that he wasn't good-looking; he was, what with his round face, blue eyes, and blond hair. It was just that he looked all the rest of my suitors: too proud of himself, unaware of life's struggles; arrogant and dumb.

The people around him seemed to be nobles, though if I knew from past experiences, they were just highly ranked do-gooder servants, only there for show and "protection" and to deal with the dirty things the prince didn't want to do. The idea seemed pretty childish to me, but I figured it came with the territory of being royalty — you did stupid things for the sake of tradition.

I curtsied slightly and walked to my mother's side, to the only available seat that was unfortunately in front of Prince— Wait. What was his name again?

Mother made the introductions, saving me the embarrassment of asking. "Isabella," she said (she only called me Bella in private; it was improper for royalty to have shortened names, apparently), catching the attention of the entire table, "this is Prince Michael." She waved her hand toward him absentmindedly, but I was pretty sure I didn't imagine her suggestive undertone. It gave me the chills just thinking about the type of things she was suggesting.

I extended my hand toward him and forced a smile, making my cheeks hurt with the effort. "Charmed, I'm sure."

He took my hand in one of his and kissed it for a moment too long, making my stomach turn uncomfortably. "I think it is I who is charmed."

My smile wavered and I tucked my hand underneath the table, wiping it on the skirts of my dress. "Of course." I couldn't think of anything else to say, so to say I was grateful when the servers came in with our dinner would be an understatement.

We were having a simple dinner, with only two servings instead of the traditional four. No one seemed to mind, but I was still shocked as I always was that we had so much food for just one meal. It had seemed like a hassle to eat something from every serving — first the soup, then the appetizer, then the entrée, then dessert — as I always ended up feeling stuffed, but learned to stop complaining. Mother said it was a bad habit to complain.

I poked at my chicken with a frown, not wanting to look up but not wanting to put anything in my mouth either. I was forced to play with the food as a middle ground.

"King Charles," Prince Michael said, catching the attention of everyone, even the nobles who seemed to be milling around in their own little bubble.

"Yes?" Father asked, a chipper smile adorning his face.

"I must say your home is very warm and homey. It seems to be the perfect place to raise children." He subtly looked in my direction.

I stiffened, remembering something about Prince Michael. He was the youngest in his country which meant he'd never be able to inherit the throne. Martha, my tutor on foreign affairs and all things historical, had told me that the prince was not only looking for a bride but also for the kingdom of that bride.

My left hand curled into a fist. Even if I _did_ want to marry him (which I most certainly did not!), he would just use me to become King. Acid churned in my stomach.

"Yes," Father agreed, nodding his head. "It has been the perfect place to raise children, but I think it might be a bit old fashioned for this generation's little ones."

Prince Michael balked. "I'm sure it's perfectly fine for children nowadays," he stuttered.

"I don't think so."

"I'm sure if you'd just look at children's taste you'd realize your castle is just fine … Maybe a few renovations, but not anything drastic." He stabbed a piece of chicken with his fork and put it in his mouth; he continued to talk. "I can just see myself here with a litter if kiddies running around."

"Right," I interjected. _"Kiddies."_ The word had never seemed inappropriate until now. It made me want to spill my stomach's contents. "Now," I said, standing up, "if you'll excuse me."

I couldn't get out of there fast enough. I was lucky I didn't trip on my skirts in my hurry — it was the only lucky thing about the night.

I could feel the hours drift away as I sat on my bed, reading up on my Greek mythology. Someone knocked on my door just as I reached the middle of the story where Zeus ate all of his and Rhea's children.

"Come in."

Mother walked in and closed the door behind her. She looked at the light pink nightgown I had changed into and sighed. "You don't like him, do you?"

"Who? Prince Michael?" I shook my head slightly. "No; I don't."

She sighed heavily and went to sit next to me. "I thought as much."

I looked down. "Sorry."

"You have nothing to apologize for, Bella."

I looked up and smiled slightly, thanking her wordlessly.

"It's just that I'm disappointed is all. I mean, I just want you to be happy."

"Mother, I don't need a prince to make me happy. I can be happy on my own."

"It doesn't feel that way to me, Bella. It feels like I have to make sure you wed, and that only when you do, you'll be happy, which will make me happy."

She smiled and I couldn't help but smile back.

"Oh, I almost forgot," she said, reaching for something on the inside of her corset. It was a note. "Your sister sends her greetings."

"Is she as happy as I think she is or more so?" I asked, smiling.

Mother looked down; she seemed sad to have brought the topic of Alice at all. "Not exactly."

"Mother? What is it?"

She breathed out through her nose and looked anywhere except at me. "Prince Jasper's father and mother are dying."

My gasped silently.

"They went out on business to another country and … well, they contracted this mysterious disease. The medics have concluded that it is not contagious, so your sister is safe; but without any knowledge on how to treat them, the chances of them surviving are slim to none. The doctor gave them a few months time."

I didn't know what to say, so I said the first thing that came to my mind. "How are they taking it?"

"Rosalie and Jasper are devastated, and Alice said she feels like she can't do anything. It's really taking its toll on everyone."

I nodded, out of things to say. Soon, Mother realized that if she stayed it would make the moment awkward, so she left.

I felt empty. I couldn't say I was sad because I had only met King and Queen Hale of Wideg at the wedding, but I felt like I couldn't call up the right emotion to feel. I settled for neutral.

I placed my book on the bookshelf and put out the candle, leaving the room in semi-darkness (light came in from under the crack of the door and through the window: candle and moon light). I went to bed and lay down, pulling the covers over my chest, waiting for sleep.

Eventually, sleep did come, but how I wished I could stay asleep for forever. I didn't want to face what would be waiting for me in the morning — even though I had no idea what it would be … yet.

I awoke at the break at dawn. I wanted to go back to sleep, but something kept me on the borderline of unconsciousness. My eyes were still closed, but sleep still didn't come for me.

A lull, dull sound vibrated through the walls. It was heart-throbbing and I had the uncontrollable urge to sooth it. It was groan, loud and pained.

I shot upward, instantly awake and with wide eyes. The room sat still but was painfully heavy. The air seemed almost tangible and beads of sweat started to form on my brow.

The groan sounded once again, more distinct this time. It was feminine; I could tell that much.

And it was familiar — hauntingly, eerily familiar.

It shook the walls once more as my mind made the connection.

"Mother!" I screeched, jumping out of bed. I tripped on the fallen bed sheets, but ignored the pain in my knees and hands as I rushed out the door.

Some servants were in the hallway, carrying jugs of water and cloth, but they seemed to stop what they were doing to stare at me. I knew my attire wasn't fitting — nobody, except Charlotte, had ever seen me in anything but the finest gowns — however, at the moment, I didn't care what they thought. My mother was dying!

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	2. Chapter 2

**Hi, everyone and sorry for the delay.**

**Sparkle: The reviews and alerts were at good level for a starting story, so we're happy!**

**Hunting: Unfortunately, I personally think this chapter sucks apples.**

**Sparkle: Ditto, but we still hope you enjoy.**

**Disclaimer: We do not own Twilight, which makes us sad. Whaaa!**

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_Chapter 2: Despair  
Country of Afneg  
Bella POV_

The hallways and corridors had never seemed this long before from my quarters to my parents'. The servants continued to stare until I reached the east wing.

Outside of their room door, over a dozen people were standing, each carrying either a jug of water or small pieces of cloth. When they saw me, they automatically let me through, for which I was thankful.

I closed the door behind me and gasped inaudibly at the sight before me.

Father was at the left side of the bed, holding Mother's hand and seemed to be sobbing. I had never seen him look so broken before, but Mother was in much worse condition. She was lying of the bed, and even from the far distance I was at, I could see her face glistening with sticky sweat. She was paler then I'd ever seen her but had a slight green under tone to her skin. Even the morning glow of the sun coming from the window didn't seem to help her look healthier.

My lip trembled and I ran forward, collapsing at the foot of her bed. "Oh, Mother."

She opened her eyes, seeming to shake with the effort. "Bella?" she croaked.

A lump seemed to station itself in my throat; it hurt to see her in pain. "Mother, w−what happened?" My voice seemed almost as weak hers, and tears clouded my vision. I blinked rapidly to make sure she didn't see them.

"Oh, honey, I wish I kn—" A loud, raspy coughing fit cut her off. It came from deep in her throat and it was easy to tell it hurt her.

I bit my lip and looked up at Father. He looked at me and nodded.

"Water," he called, a bit louder than his speaking voice.

Almost immediately, a servant came with a jug and cloth. She wiped Mother's forehead with the moist cloth, leaving it there and scurrying out of the room soon after.

She groaned, and I tried to swallow the lump in my throat to no avail, wiping the cloth left behind on her hot face. "Don't talk, Mother." I dipped the cloth in the water and resumed my job. "Just focus on getting better. I'll be here until you do."

She closed her eyes and mumbled something incoherent.

I looked up at Father again. He was frowning grimly, looking at Mother with crestfallen eyes. He felt my gaze on him and looked up. He tried to smile but it didn't reach his eyes.

I sighed and looked back down at Mother, whose breathing had turned shallow and uneven. I think she was sleeping. I closed my eyes and dropped my head into my hands, praying.

Oh, Almighty God above, I thought, please heal my mother of her illness and do not let her fall into Death's hands of evil. She is good, as You must know, so help her in her time of need. Amen.

I opened my eyes when I felt a hand on my shoulder. I looked up to find Charlotte.

"Princess," she said solemnly, "you need to dress. I promise the Queen will be here when you return."

I nodded and let her take me to my chambers, up to get dressed. I took one last look at Mother and saw her blank eyes looking back at me, almost pleading some unknown message. She turned her head around and whispered something I didn't hear to Father.

Charlotte pushed me gently out of the room before I could ask.

When I reached my room, I changed almost mechanically, in a hurry to get back to Mother. After I informed Charlotte that I wouldn't be attending any classes today, I raced back to Mother, only to find her asleep and in much worse condition than before.

Eventually, the medics came and tried to treat Mother, but nothing came out of it. They concluded that it was incurable, and we would just have to wait and see whether it passed or if … if—

I couldn't even think of the other possibility; it automatically brought tears to my eyes. However, as the sun started to set and cast ominous shadows, the possibility of the second option started to seem like more of a reality.

Mother's temperature continued to rise and she started coughing out red stains on the cloth: blood. She started to get weaker and weaker, and it started to hurt her to do even the simplest things.

About an hour after the sun had set, Mother started coughing again, waking herself, Father, and me again from our restless sleeps. I automatically reached for the cloth as she stained it with blood. She chugged the water I offered her greedily, but stopped suddenly, lurching forward and managing to knock the water from my hands.

Her hands clutched at the fabric above her left breast and she started shaking uncontrollably, breathing through her mouth in heavy pants.

Father and I stood on the spot, frantically waving our hands over Mother's twisting body, unsure of what to do.

"Medic!" Father shouted in a cracking voice. "Medic!"

I felt someone push me aside. The medic held Mother's wrist and murmured something to Father. My ears seemed to be stuffed with cotton and everything was going in slow motion.

The medic put two hands on her chest and started pushing, blowing air into her mouth. He seemed to be muttering something but I couldn't hear. Eventually, after who-knows-how-long, the medic stopped pushing against mother's chest. She lay there, unmoving and with her eyes closed.

"I apologize, King Charles," the medic said. "We've lost her." He bowed slightly and exited the room without another glace.

Father looked at nothing before he fell to his knees, bawling loudly, repeating Mother's name over and over. "Oh, Renée! Renée, my love, Renée!"

It all seemed to hit me then. My mother was dead. I would never be able to see her smile again, or laugh. My vision clouded over with tears and I whimpered.

I launched myself at her bed. "Mother, no!" I shook her unmoving shoulders as the tears ran down my cheeks. "You _can't_ leave! _NO!_"

Something firm and strong wrapped around my waist. I kicked and screamed, trying to get it off me and wake my mother up — that's all she was doing. She was just asleep; she had to be only sleeping … right?

I turned and buried my head in Father's shoulder, the one who was holding me, and sobbed loudly. She was gone; she was _dead_.

I wailed in agony as my tears stained Father's shirt.

Eventually, after much crying on both of our parts, the moon was high in the sky. A wolf cried in the far distance and that seemed to snap me out of it. My sobbing soon turned into silent tears and I tore myself away from Father's embrace. He went limp.

I stood up and walked to Mother's side, taking her hand in mine. It was cold and smooth, a deep, ghostly contrast to the way it had been in the evening: rough and hot. I sniffled.

"No," I whispered brokenly. A tear rolled down my nose and onto her hand. "Why did you leave me?"

There was shuffling behind. A hand rested on my shoulder. "You should probably head back to your quarters, Bella. You have had enough to deal with." His tone was sad, but I knew he just wanted me out so that they could remove the body. "You need your rest."

I nodded mutely and stood up, forcing myself not to look back. If I did, I would just break down again.

When I reached my room, I didn't even remove my dress before I collapsed on the bed, sobbing. Somehow, I managed to fall asleep without dreams. I was glad for that; I didn't need my sleep to be plagued with death, too.

A knock on the door awoke me from my sleep. Before I had time to compose myself, Father came into the room, holding thick sheets of paper.

I looked up at him with questioning eyes, refusing to get up from my soft bedding.

He sat at the edge of my bed, looking at the paper in his hands. "Bella," he sighed. "I think it's time for you to see your mother's testimony. There's no time like the now, after all."

I looked away, nodding, thinking nothing of what Mother would want from me. She was very simple: she just wanted me to be happy. I closed my eyes as Father started to speak.

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